


Weather Or Not

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-27
Updated: 2003-04-27
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Broken down, middle of nowhere, no phones and soaking wet.





	Weather Or Not

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Weather Or Not

### Weather Or Not

#### by Forbes

  

    
    
         From: "forbes2264" <>
         Date: Wednesday, September 18, 2002 5:29 AM
    
         Title: Weather Or Not
         Author: Forbes
         Pairing: Skinner/ Doggett
         Rating: possibly N17 for language and situation.
         Summary: Broken down, middle of nowhere, no phones and soaking wet.
         Author's notes: This is an unashamed PWP...  (Not part of the Letters
         Universe) A piece of pointless fluff... Merely designed to create a
         situation to exercise my dirty mind. Nothing but a few cringes, a
         smile or two and some sap. So don't say I didn't warn you. This is for
         Les. Hope you feel better soon.
         Archive: XFMU, Doggett Torture & Slash, the Basement and anywhere else
         that wants to give it a home.
         Disclaimer: not mine.
         Feedback: always appreciated and answered at 
    

* * *

Part 1 

Slamming the car door with more force than was strictly necessary, Doggett shrugged himself inside his jacket, pulled it tightly around himself and turned the collar up. 

He picked his way through the puddles to the rear of the car, cursing the weather, Bureau cars and his own lousy luck. 

"Shit!" The rain was relentless, finding its way down the neck of his lightweight jacket despite his best efforts. 

He slipped in the mud, only a hand on the car trunk keeping him upright. The sharp jolt stung his wrist-bones, sending fireworks clean up to his elbow. 

"Fuck!" He gave the tingling arm a shake, water flying off it in all directions. The other hand juggled with the trunk keys, stabbing it home and savagely lifting the lid, as a rush of cold rain spattered down his neck. He scrabbled around, peering in. 

And stared, not wanting to believe his eyes. 

"No..." The word came out more as a plea than a statement. Then more forcefully: "I don't fuckin' believe it! He scrabbled about, helplessly praying that he'd been mistaken. 

Nope. He'd been right. 

No shit... No tire. 

"Goddammit!" he yelled, furiously slamming his hand on the car. 

He was soaked. They had a flat, in the middle of the asshole of nowhere, he was hungry and his goddammed feet were like ice. 

Pulling the trunk down with a vicious slam, he stamped his way around to the driver's door, muttering under his breath. The rain blew in his face, gleefully soaking through his jacket to plaster his shirt to his chest. 

In a spray of bad temper and even worse weather, he yanked open the door and threw himself into his seat. 

Doggett sat where he landed for a moment, rain dripping out of his hair and off the end of his nose. Not just wet, he thought grimly -by the feel of things, he was soaked clean through to his boxers. He sighed. 

"That must be the quickest wheel-change in the history of the world." 

Tearing his gaze away from his lap, where he'd been watching drops of water splash into his clothes, Doggett slowly turned his gaze to the man sitting in the other seat and stared, not trusting himself to make a civil comment, just yet. 

Skinner stared back, a little smile on his lips, as he watched another droplet wander down between Doggett's eyes and down his nose. It hung there, trembling, waiting to fall. As Doggett opened his mouth to speak, it threw itself onto his bottom lip. 

The face in the next seat twitched and Doggett frowned. He shouldn't laugh. However funny Doggett might look, sitting there, spiky haired and dripping wet, looking like a cross hen, the other man shouldn't laugh. It wasn't nice. Especially as he had volunteered to get out in the rain to do the tire. 

"No tire," he said, at last, his tongue swiping at the drop. It tasted of pine. 

Skinner's expression faltered. 

"You're kidding." 

"Fraid not." He ran a wet hand over his face. 

Doggett watched the AD's face drop with a small stab of satisfaction. 

"Perfect," he sighed. "Just... perfect." 

"Yeah." Doggett wiped his face again, not achieving a great deal more than moving the water around. Skinner silently handed him a tissue. 

He grunted thanks and ran the little square over his face. Typical government logic. They provided little dainty tissues in the Bucars, but failed to check the basics were there. Sighing, he rubbed it on the top of his head, feeling it disintegrate under the volume of water in his hair. 

"Here's the situation." He balled the tissue up into a wad. "We have no way of changing the flat. We're inappropriately dressed for the weather, and thanks to that detour, no-one has a clue as to where we are." 

"You forgot to mention the cell phone issue." 

He shook his head ruefully. "I didn't. I was just ignoring it." 

"How mature." 

Doggett narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. If he spoke now, he was just going to make some snarky remark. 

"It's going to be an exercise in creative writing for you, explaining how you managed to destroy a..." Skinner held up a finger. "Oh... No wait. Not one, but two Bureau cell phones." 

Doggett winced. 

"Okay... okay. Don't rub it in." He peered out into the dark. "Probably wouldn't work way out here, anyhow." 

"We'll never know, will we?" 

"Stupid dog," he muttered. His breath fogged on the window. 

"Perhaps if you hadn't thrown your phone at him, Agent Doggett." 

"You think maybe I should have let him take a bite outta my ass instead?" he snapped. 

"I don't actually think it could have reached you, up that tree." 

Doggett turned his head to glare at the other man, who just shook his head. "You could have used your gun, Agent." 

He glared and winced at Skinner's comment. "I couldn't shoot a dumb animal." 

A dark eyebrow rose. "But you'd try to choke it to death by feeding it our remaining cell phone?" 

Doggett sighed and pinched his nose. "Yeah, okay... Whatever. But that stupid dog or the phone isn't the issue, here, is it?" 

Skinner gave him a look that spoke volumes about the 'issue' of being stuck in the middle of nowhere without a phone. 

"And what do you think is the issue, Agent Doggett?" 

"The fact that we can either sit here and freeze our asses off and just hope someone comes by - which, by the way I think is highly unlikely , given the weather and the fact we're in the ass-end of nowhere..." He waved a wet hand. "Or we can walk back to that cabin." 

"Cabin?" 

"Back there." 

Skinner frowned. "I didn't see any cabin." 

"That's because you were asleep." 

"I was not." 

Doggett sighed. He was cold, pissed off and more than a little tense. He wasn't about to argue the toss. "Okay. You weren't asleep. My mistake." 

Skinner grunted. 

"But nevertheless, there's still a little cabin back there. Some kinda hunter's lodge, I guess." He wiped his hands down his pants. "And odds on it'll be more comfortable than this tin can - and with any luck, warmer." 

Another drop trickled down the bridge of his nose. He gave an involuntary shiver, his body making his point. 

Skinner shook his head. "We can't just break into someone elses place. Start the engine, get the heater going. Another car might be along in a while." 

"I doubt there's enough gas in the tank to last more than a coupla hours." 

"Well..." Skinner glanced behind them. "There's a travel rug back there. We could share it." 

Doggett stared, the concept of snuggling up with his boss under a skimpy blanket appalling him to the seat of his damp boxers. And to be fair, Skinner didn't look too crazy about the idea either. 

"I don't think..." 

Skinner nodded. "You're right." 

They both fell silent, watching the rain sliding off the windscreen. Doggett wondered what the other man was thinking. He'd bet his left nut he wasn't thinking the same thing as he was. 

Jesus Christ no... Doggett watched a twig dragged down the glass in a river of rain. He'd lay odds that Skinner wasn't horrified at the thought of cuddling up together because he couldn't be sure he could stop himself from getting a raging hard-on. 

The twig hit the wipers and stuck fast. Definitely not. Absolutely not. No way Assistant Director Skinner would ever entertain idle and lustful thoughts about another man. Cast-iron macho-man, that was his boss. No way he'd ever wonder what the skin at the top of another man's collar tasted like - or spent meetings wondering if the man behind the desk screamed when he came, or if he just groaned. 

But Doggett wasn't about to confess to any of that. Not while they were stuck in the wilds where no-one knew could find them. The larger man would probably drag him off into the trees and beat him to death. Blame it on the X-Files. Not as if he hadn't lost an Agent before. 

Doggett cleared his throat. 

"Maybe we should make a move now, before it gets any worse." 

Skinner looked out of the rain-slicked window at his side. "Worse?" 

"I coulda sworn I heard thunder." 

"Oh." 

The look on his face at that news made Doggett smile. So, there was a chink in the iron-clad Assistant Director Skinner's armour. Apparently thunder storms were not the A.D's favourite thing. He filed that information away as Skinner scoured the dark skies. 

Whatever he could or couldn't see in the darkness made him wince. "Okay, I agree. Let's go." 

"Huh?" 

The AD was suddenly all urgent movement, gathering papers and stuffing them into his case and reaching behind to grab the rug from the back seat, simultaneously wriggling into his jacket. He glanced over. "Well?" 

Doggett stared. "Well, what?" 

"You coming, or am I leaving you here?" His hand was already on the door lever. 

Doggett rolled his eyes. "Yeah... Yeah..." Fishing around in the glove box for the ubiquitous FBI torch, he added a sigh to the already tense atmosphere. 

* * *

Part 2 

Doors slamming and feet squelching, the two slipped and slithered down the road, muttering and cursing dress shoes not designed for wet-weather hiking. Doggett swore as he slithered, arms pinwheeling to keep his balance. The torch light painted the treetops. 

"How far?" Skinner yelled into the wind, holding his jacket tight against his chest and trying to shield his eyes. 

Doggett waved the torch. 

"There. Down a ways." 

"Where, exactly?" 

"Jeez! I don't know!" Doggett bit down on stronger language, aware this was his superior. 

"We passed it maybe a minute or two before the blow-out." 

Skinner didn't deign to reply, just shrugged deeper into his jacket and set off along the edge of the road. Doggett hurried after him shivering as the new onslaught of rain fast-tracked its way to his skin. There wasn't much point in holding his jacket like Skinner -he was soaked to the bone as it was. Surely there was a limit to the amount of water one wool suit could hold? He glanced down his body. 

Looked like he'd have the answer to that real soon. 

They picked their way along the edge of the rough road, the pine needles seeming to give a little more traction underfoot than the slick road. Doggett followed in Skinner's footsteps, feeling the water seep into his shoes. 

The theory that pine needles helped was disproved as he slipped crazily to one side, ass-first into a sizable puddle. He just had time to yell 'Oh, shit!' before the wind was thoroughly knocked out of him in a tidal wave of muddy water. 

A few steps safely in front, Skinner must have thought that was just about the funniest thing he'd seen that day. Doggett watched him sourly as he slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from bellowing with laughter. 

"Aw..." Doggett pushed himself up, embedding his hands up to the wrists in mud. "Fuck..." he said, looking down, the mud slowly oozing into his lap. 

"You okay?" Skinner asked, biting his lip. 

"I guess so," he muttered in disgust, regarding a dripping hand. 

"You went down pretty hard." 

"Tell me about it." 

Skinner stood in front and held out his hand. "C'mon. I see the cabin. It's just down there." Doggett stared up at the grinning man, contemplating pulling him down in the mud with him. 

He wasn't entirely sure if that idea appealed because of that grin on his face, or because of the vaguely erotic thought of rolling in wet mud with his boss. 

"Thanks." Doggett clamped his mind down put his filthy hand in the other man's, and pulled up, and braced himself. He gave a little grunt, relishing the tight grip of fingers on his. God - Keep your mind on the job, John, he told himself. Not on the way Skinner's hand fit in his, and certainly not on how that hand might feel elsewhere. Keep thoughts like that strictly in those shower-cubicle fantasies that helped him get through each day, he reprimanded himself, sternly. 

Standing, he let go of Skinner's hand, feeling the strangely intimate slither of mud between their palms. "Thanks." 

"No problem." 

Doggett turned away and wiping the mud off on his pants. Keep your cool, John... Act naturally. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah. Just wounded my pride a little," he admitted, ruefully rubbing his behind. 

Skinner glanced and grinned. "I'll bet." 

Picking their way across the road, the made their way to the ancient shack. Although clearly past its best sometime during the last century, it was better than nothing. 

Skinner rattled the doorknob. It was locked of course. They did a quick tour of the building that revealed shuttered locked windows and no back door. 

"Damn." 

Doggett took a step back off the porch, nodding at the door. "You want I should do the honours?" 

"I guess." Skinner looked none too happy about it. "We can always get the owners to bill the Bureau." 

Doggett grunted. "Yeah. Just see us tryin' to explain breaking and entering. Maybe we should just leave some cash." Lifting his foot, he pulled in a breath and slammed it against the lock. It took three attempts to get the door to give it up, each kick pulling a wince from Skinner. 

The door finally shot open, crashing back against the wall with splintered indignation, Doggett stumbled into the room, falling awkwardly to one knee in the dark. 

"Ahh! Fuck!" 

Skinner stood over him. "You okay?" 

"Yeah." Wincing as he pulled himself slowly up, Doggett shook his head. That hadn't done his knee any good at all. He'd be paying for that later, he'd bet. Hadn't been the same since his senior year. He flexed it, feeling a dull click inside. 

Skinner walked ahead and glanced around. Doggett rubbed and clicked, moving to stand at dripping at Skinner's side. This whole day was turning out to be a nightmare. First a wash-out seminar/meeting that bored the tits off the pair of them, then an utterly pointless detour to investigate some backwoods idiot that ordered way too much fertilizer for his own good. 

He'd swear Skinner only wanted to do the call 'cause he was desk-bound and bored. 

Some visit that had been. Major run-in with a banjo-playing freak and his mutant dog. 

He sighed and looked round the room, rubbing his knee some more. 

Not exactly the Ritz, but it would do. There was a fireplace, an old ceramic sink, an even older dresser, a couple of straight-back chairs and a bed. 

A single bed. 

From the corner of his eye, Doggett watched Skinner frown as he stared at it. For the second time that evening, he wished he knew what was going on inside that shiny head. Did the sight of one narrow bed make his belly clench? 

He shook his head. They'd deal with the sleeping issue later. Right now he was just too fucking cold to give it serious thought. He limped over to the sink and grabbed both pots. 

"I'll put these out in the rain, see if I can gather some water to boil. An' try to fix the door." 

Skinner turned to look at him. "So a fire might be a plan then?" 

Hand on the front door Doggett glared at the other man and then out at the rain. It seemed to be coming down even heavier and his knee was throbbing. He was definitely not in the mood for sarcasm. "Knock yourself out." 

He stepped out into the downpour and banged the pots down on the step. The rain took the opportunity to race down his collar again. He knew he was dancing very close to insubordination using that tone of voice. But being stuck in a remote cabin with his boss might be fodder for a wet dream but only in his very private fantasies. And wet though this was, this was more a living nightmare. 

He slammed the door shut and studied at the lock without trusting himself to look over at Skinner. This was like trying to tap-dance blindfolded through a minefield in steel toe-capped boots. And it was all very well lying in bed, safe at home dreaming about the whole 'remote cabin/boss' thing, but all it would take was one over-familiar touch, one off-colour remark and he was looking an harassment suit in the face. 

Shit. He thumped the main lock housing with the heel of his hand. 

Talk about be careful what you wish for... Couple more vicious thumps and he wedged the lock tight. He stood and regarded the door. Maybe not as good as new, but it'd do for tonight, anyway. 

He glanced behind at Skinner, poised to ask if he needed any help, only to find his breath catching in his throat. 

The AD was kneeling in front of the fireplace, blowing gently on a pile of tinder with that tight, hard-as-iron ass stuck up in the air. Doggett swallowed. 

He watched the backs of a pair of muscled thighs flex as the other man leaned forward. Doggett rubbed his wet hand over his eyes. Oh Jesus, it was going to be a hell of a long night. 

He sighed, tramping down so hard on his libido it hurt. 

"Any luck?" 

Skinner nodded, still blowing gently on the tinder. "I think so. Just catching." He sat back on his heels and watched at the tiny flicker of flame licked at the shreds of paper. "Yep. There we go." 

He grinned as the fire grew. 

A thought occurred, driving all thoughts of tight-asses away. "What d'you use?" He limped closer. 

"Matches." 

Giving his boss a look, Doggett folded his arms. "I meant for kindling." 

Skinner gave a small shrug. "Your report." 

"What!" 

"And just what else do you suggest?" 

"How 'bout just about anything, goddammit!" He reached for his wallet in a dramatic gesture. "Hey! I'd rather you used my damned money." 

Skinner looked him up and down. "Calm down, Agent Doggett. Reports can always be re-written." 

He threw his hands up and strode across the room. "Gee, thanks. I wasn't actually planning on taking any paperwork home with me this weekend." He rolled his eyes. "I had planned on getting a life." He glared as Skinner looked at him, those dark eyes tracking his lop-sided pacing. He knew this probably looked like a borderline tantrum, but under the circumstances he thought he was entitled. 

That goddamned report had taken hours. 

"I can't believe you'd rather sit in the freezing cold, Agent." He stood in one smooth move and picked out several small logs from the pile next to the fireplace and placed them carefully. "I most certainly don't. Ergo - the report is expendable." 

Doggett glowered from the kitchen area as Skinner skilfully built a pyramid of wood over the papers he'd diligently and painstakingly filled out on his lap in the car. 

Shit. It might stick in his craw, but Skinner was right, of course. 

He watched the tiny flames licking eagerly at the dry wood, spreading and growing. 

He took a step closer, shivering unconsciously. Warmth. 

"Won't be long." Skinner glanced up. "You look like you're freezing." 

Arms wrapping themselves around his chest, he snorted. "Y'think?" The rain drizzled down his forehead on to his nose. 

Skinner just gazed in that inscrutilble, silent way of his. Doggett wiped his face and wiped it on his jacket. Then stared at his wet hand in disgust. That was outstandingly pointless. 

"There anything in this place to dry ourselves with?" 

Doggett sighed. "Dunno." 

He looked around. The bed had a cover on it. Walking over, Doggett picked it up and shook the dust off. "Just one old blanket, by the looks of it." He held it up. 

Skinner nodded. "Good. One each." 

Good, indeed. At least they wouldn't have to do the 'cuddle-up' thing. Small mercies. Skinner grabbed the car blanket from the floor and walked over to him. 

"Here, take this one. It's thicker." 

Doggett gave him a look. 

Skinner sighed. "You're a good deal wetter than I am, Agent Doggett. 

I'm not being noble, just practical." 

Grunting this thanks, Doggett reluctantly exchanged blankets. He was acting like a jerk, he knew, but couldn't seem to help himself. He sighed, then shivered some more. He wasn't going to feel warm til the middle of next June, he reckoned. 

"Go stand nearer the fire." Skinner gave him a little push. "I'll see if we've got enough water to heat up and anything to put in it." 

Plucking discreetly at the sodden seat of his pants, he moved to the hearth, favouring his good knee. God, it was stiffening up already. 

It'd be murder by the morning. 

Lowering himself down with a wince, he swung the blanket over his shoulders and stretched his hands out to the small fire, relishing the heat. If he hadn't frozen to death by then, of course. 

He sniffed experimentally. Just his luck to be getting a cold, too. 

* * *

Part 3 

Skinner banged the door shut and carried the pots over. "Here we go." The larger of the two stayed on the wooden floor, but he hooked the smaller one on a hooked arm at the side of the fire and swung it over the flames. "Better than nothing." 

Doggett grunted without looking up. 

He stared into the fire and thought of all the things that were better than nothing, and then he thought of all the things that were better than sitting in wet shorts in a wooden icebox. 

Behind him, he could hear Skinner rooting around in the small kitchenette. 

"No coffee, I'm afraid. But there's something that I think is tea. 

Least it smells like it." 

He walked over and shoved a box under Doggett's nose. "What d'you think?" 

Doggett sniffed. He couldn't smell anything. 

"Dunno. Could be grade-A cannabis, for all I can tell." 

"That'd be great." 

Doggett looked sideways. 

"I mean, can you imagine? Two FBI agents, lost, trespassing and stoned out of our heads." 

A wry smile twitched Doggett's lips. "Least we wouldn't feel the cold." 

"Yeah." 

There was something in the way Skinner's voice held the whisper of regret that made Doggett wonder if the AD had cut out and had himself a wild time in his dim and distant past. 

He shook his head to himself. Nah. Not Skinner. 

Two mugs appeared on the floor, then Skinner flopped down next to him, bumping their shoulders together. 

"Sorry." 

"S'okay." 

They sat in silence for a while, both staring at the pot. 

"God, my feet are freezing." Skinner began to pluck at his laces. 

"Know what you mean." He had stopped feeling his toes around an hour ago. 

The soaked dress shoes got toed off without undoing the laces and tossed to one side. 

"You'll ruin them, doing that," Skinner told him, carefully untying his own shoes. 

Doggett chuckled. "Yes, dad." 

There was a snort, then he watched, fascinated as Skinner's feet appeared. Large feet, nicely shaped with long toes. They wriggled as Skinner pushed them out towards the fire. His feet were ridiculously tanned for the time of year. 

Doggett slowly pulled his own socks off, laying them on the warming bricks. He looked at his own feet. Smaller than Skinner's, maybe. Toes not as long. He smiled to himself. Good thing he didn't have a foot fetish. 

"Something funny?" 

He shook his head, not in any rush to share that thought. "Feels good." He wriggled his toes the same way Skinner had. 

"Yeah. It does." 

They sat for a few minutes, until the sensation crept back into the flesh. Now if he could only get the rest of his body to feel as warm as this. Yeah... he could just see himself sitting stark naked in front of a raging fire next to his boss. 

"Might be a good idea to strip off, you know." 

Doggett's eyes widened and he snapped his head around to stare. Oh, shit! Did he say something out loud? 

"What d'you say?" 

"Got to get out of these wet clothes." Skinner leaned forward and placed a couple of logs on the fire. 

"We're never going to warm up sitting here soaked to the skin." To emphasize his point, he began pull at his tie. 

Ohshitohshitohshit! Doggett's mind rattled about in his head, screaming to get out. Skinner was shrugging himself out of his jacket. He knelt up and hung it over the chair back and started on his shirt buttons. 

"Give me yours. I'll drape it on the seat. Might dry out a bit." 

Kneeling with one hand on his shirt, Skinner extended the other towards him and Doggett's mind curled up in a ball and cringed. 

"Uh..." 

"C'mon, Agent Doggett. You're not going to get any warmer sitting there in wet clothes." 

His hand finished unbuttoning his shirt and tugged it free. 

"I... er..." He sat motionless, staring at the white undershirt that appeared from under Skinner's dress shirt. 

Fingers clicked under his nose. 

"Jacket?" 

Dumbly sliding the blanket off his shoulders, Doggett pulled at his lapels, tugging his jacket off his back. 

Oh, God. What the hell? He was taking his clothes off in front of his boss! Something that might have appeared in his head once or twice in a pervy fantasy kind of way, but he never imagined in a million years... 

Skinner took the jacket from his numb fingers and laid it carefully over the seat of the chair, arranging the arms to hang freely. 

"Might get the water out of it." He watched as small puddles formed where the material touched the floor. He sighed. "Some of it, anyway." 

As he stood up and moved to get the other chair, Doggett sat in a stunned puddle of his own. 

The other man couldn't be serious, could he? About stripping? The chair banged down close to the fire with Skinner's shirt hanging off one side. 

"Shirt." Fingers clicked in front of Doggett's nose. 

He was serious, okay. 

Swallowing, Doggett pulled at his tie. Maybe if he took a long time, Skinner'd give up waiting and leave him alone. Mind you, untying a tie with ice-cold fingers was never going to be a quick job. The damn thing seemed determined to strangle him. He pulled harder, staring at the draped shirt in front of him. He wondered what size neck it was. 

"Here..." 

"Huh?" Doggett looked up as Skinner pushed his fingers away and began to fiddle with his tie. 

"You'll freeze to death at this rate," he said, frowning at the knot. 

"I can do it." A voice with an edge of panic to it, Doggett's numb fingers seemed determined to prove him wrong. 

"Probably." Skinner batted his hands away. "But I can do it faster." The tie snaked through Doggett's collar with a hearty tug that janked him sideways. 

"Hey..." 

"Stop complaining." Skinner began to thread shirt buttons through holes with a dexterity that excited and distressed Doggett beyond belief. A grin appeared on the face not a foot away. "It's not every employee that gets undressed by his boss." 

Doggett squeaked in the back of his throat as strong hands pulled his shirt free from his pants, almost tipping him over in the process. 

"I can manage," he said, desperately, horrified at how fast things were moving without his consent. 

"Hurry up then," Skinner told him, sitting back on his heels and staring. He seemed poised to take over if Doggett fumbled. 

"Okay...okay." Pulling his shirt all the way out, he battled with his cuffs, biting his lip, praying Skinner wasn't going to take his hands and finish undressing him like a baby. 

Conquering the tiny buttons at last, he sagged with relief, as he peeled the soaking shirt off his back and handed it over. 

"Thank you." Skinner draped the sodden article over the other side of the chair where it preceded to drip on the floor. 

"You really are soaked, aren't you?" he said, eyebrows rising. 

"That'll be the rain," Doggett snipped, twisting to pull the blanket back up. "Does it every time." 

Skinner just looked at him. Doggett wriggled a little under the gaze then cleared his throat. 

"Sorry," he muttered. 

Skinner didn't acknowledge the apology, just held out his hand. "Shirt." 

"What?" 

"Your undershirt." 

"But..." 

"And before you start, mine stays on because it's nowhere near as wet and filthy as yours." 

"But..." 

"Agent Doggett..." Skinner growled. 

Sighing, Doggett closed his eyes briefly. This was never going to make the top ten of pervy fantasies - reluctantly stripping off in what felt like an ice box. He let the blanket drop again and grabbed the neck of his shirt. He tugged hard to skin himself out of it, no easy task with it stuck to his flesh. He dragged it up, closing his eyes and trying not to think about how his skin was goosing up. 

"That's no way to treat your clothes." 

Popping his head out of the hole, Doggett glared. "Who died and made you my mother?" 

"I can't believe she lets you get away with taking your clothes off like that." 

Doggett grimaced and shivered at both the sudden rush of cold air to his skin and the thought of Skinner mentioning 'taking your clothes off'. He grabbed the blanket to cover himself. 

"She doesn't. But then she isn't here..." He narrowed his eyes. "Is she?" 

Skinner didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow. He took the wet shirt and busied himself, spreading it over the seat of the chair, before turning the whole thing around to face the fire. 

He sat back and looked at Doggett. Staring back, Doggett pulled the blanket closer, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. What the hell was he staring at? He wrapped his arms around his chest, brushing against a tight nipple, making another tiny shudder run through his body. 

This was killing him. 

He scowled at Skinner, who was still staring. "What?" 

"And the rest of it." 

"Rest of what?" 

Skinner clicked his fingers. "Pants." 

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" 

"Pants." 

"Aw, now c'mon..." 

"Give them up. Agent Doggett." 

"Or what?" 

Skinner shrugged. "I'll take them." 

Several oft-used fantasies roared out to the front of Doggett's mind, each one in glorious technicolour, threatening to make him blush. He hoped it didn't show in the darkened room. 

That was all he needed. Skinner asking why he'd changed colour. 

"You wouldn't dare..." 

Skinner sighed. "Look. You're sopping wet. Covered in mud and freezing cold. None of which is conducive to getting any sleep, let alone good health. And personally, I could care less if you want to catch pneumonia, but I suspect Agent Scully might have something to say about it if I brought you back requiring more than minimum medical assistance." He frowned and held his hand out. "Now give." 

Smarting with the 'I could care less' remark, Doggett glared at the bigger man, weighing up whether or not he could just out and out refuse. Although sitting in soaking pants wasn't what you'd call a great time, he wasn't sure he wanted to be sitting in just his damp underpants after an undignified fight, either. 

"Now, Agent Doggett." 

"I'll be fine." 

"Don't make me do this..." He moved forward, reaching towards Doggett's belt. 

"Jesus!" Doggett pulled back. "Okay! Okay..." Having Assistant Director Skinner wrestle his pants off might be appealing on some level, he'd prefer to do it with some other intent than getting dry. 

"Godammit," he muttered, fiddling with the fastenings. Unzipping, savagely, he jerked his legs up to stand, releasing a white-hot sliver of agony straight through his left kneecap. 

"Awwww! Fuck!" he rocked backwards, clutching his knee, all thoughts of stripping off driven away by the sharp spike that was driving through his leg. 

"What's wrong?" 

Doggett couldn't answer, just screwed his face up and groaned. It felt like his knee was going to split open. All his past injuries piled on top of one another to remind him why he'd given up college football in his first year. 

"Oh... shit!" Counting to one hundred, he concentrated on breathing properly. The pain was receding. Slowly. Unclenching his teeth, he slowly opened his eyes. 

God! That had hurt. He looked down, expecting to see his knee burst open all over the floor. 

"Knee?" Skinner asked. 

He nodded. 

"Must have gone down harder than you thought." 

"No shit." He poked at it through his pants leg. It felt swollen and slightly mushy. 

Skinner held up his hand. "Don't get up." 

"I have no intention on ever moving again." Doggett shook his head. "Uh-uh." 

Skinner shuffled forward. "I'll pull them off from here." 

Doggett sat, hand on knee, staring. "What d'you say?" 

"Your pants." He tugged on the bottom of his legs. "Just lift up." 

"What?" 

"Your ass. Lift up." 

Again with the images, he thought as pictures ran crazily through his head. He took his weight on his hands, shaking his head slowly. Not quite how he'd imagined those words coming out of Skinner's mouth. He wrinkled his forehead as the other man grasped the bottoms of his pants legs. 

"Lift up," Skinner told him, pulling. 

He raised up his ass as instructed. Not what he'd imagined at all. 

* * *

Part 4 

Skinner tugged hard, forcing the woollen material down. Smothering a wry smile, Doggett wondered what the AD was thinking, with that slight frown on his face. Had he ever dreamed he'd say those words to Agent John Doggett? Probably embarrassed as hell, he thought. 

The slither of underwear elastic brought Doggett's mind crashing back to reality. 

"Hey! Hang on!" He dropped his ass back down and grabbed the waistband of his shorts. 

Skinner looked up. "What?" 

"I'm losing my shorts, here." 

Grinning, Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" 

Doggett scowled. Oh yeah, a real fucking comedian. 

"Just..." He yanked hard on the elastic, holding tight. "Okay." He nodded. "Now try again." 

"Hold tight." 

Resting on his elbows, hands with a death-grip on his shorts, Doggett watched Skinner relieve him of his pants in a slow slither of wet material that was strangely erotic. 

Good job he was just too fucking cold to think about getting a woody. He hoped. 

"Okay?" 

Doggett pouted and released his underwear. "I guess." He sat up. 

"I doubt even dry-cleaning will ever get these back to shape," Skinner said, squinting at the muddy seat of the pants. 

"Yeah, well, I guess I'll just hafta charge a new suit to the Bureau." 

Skinner glanced over as he hung the pants on the seat of the first chair. 

"You can try." 

Doggett grunted and tried to cover as much of his body as he could with the meagre blanket. 

Thank God he was wearing a decent pair of shorts. He'd been running low on underwear, and had very nearly put on the pair Monica had given him last year. The pair with the 'lean, mean sex-machine' logo on them. That would have been just too humiliating. These might be boring, but at least schoolboy grey wasn't kinky. Well, except to that girl he'd dated one time who claimed grey jockey-shorts turned her on. He grinned at the memory. They sure had. He'd got many happy memories of being dragged out of his schoolboy greys. 

"Penny for them?" Skinner asked, sitting down. 

Doggett pulled his face straight. "Nothin' much." 

The bigger man pulled his blanket around his shoulders. "Private thoughts, huh?" 

"You could say." 

"Anything I need to worry about?" 

Doggett looked carefully at the man sitting next to him. Was that comment a fishing expedition? Did he mean something by it? Nah. He was just being overly-sensitive. Sitting mostly naked did that. Skinner finished fussing with his blanket and looked back at him. Doggett shrugged, deciding he had nothing to lose by being honest. 

"I was just remembering someone that used to find grey underwear real sexy." 

"Yeah?" 

He laughed. "Go figure." 

"Grey?" 

"Grey." 

Skinner shook his head but made no comment. He knelt up and peered into the water then dipped the mugs in, one by one. 

"You want to risk this?" he asked, holding up the box of 'tea'. 

Doggett shrugged. "How bad can it be?" 

"Well, it's this or plain water." 

Pulling a face, Doggett shook his head. "I'll take my chances with the weed." 

Chuckling, Skinner tipped a healthy amount into each mug and watched it settle. 

"No guarantees," he said, handing one over. 

Doggett took the mug and sniffed carefully. "Smells okay." He sipped gingerly and licked his lips. 

"Tastes kinda funny, but I just think it's cause it's way past it's use-by date." 

"I'll bet." Skinner sipped his own mug. "Aww... Ugh! Sweet Jesus." 

Doggett laughed at the face he pulled. "It ain't that bad." 

Skinner looked at him. "When exactly did you lose your sense of taste, Agent Doggett?" 

He took another sip. Skinner was right. It was bad. But then again it was hot and it helped, so he told his stomach to shut up and drank it down. 

They sat silently for a while, watching the fire, listening to the steady thrum of rain on the roof. 

The warmth began to seep back into Doggett's body from the toes up. 

He sighed and put the last dregs of his drink down. No way he was going to strain that through his teeth. 

He gave his leg an experimental stretch. 

"How's the knee?" 

He looked down, flexing gently. He winced. "I'm not going to be running a marathon any time soon." 

"It swollen up?" 

Doggett peeled the blanket aside and peered at his leg. It was hard to tell in the half-light. 

"Dunno." He poked it. "Feels kinda funny." 

"Let me see." The torch flicked on. In the bright beam, Doggett watched as Skinner looked this way and that at his joint. It was mighty weird, having the man scrutinise his leg like this. He wasn't sure how it made him feel. Exposed? Sure. Little nervous? Definitely. 

Comforted? He raised an eyebrow. Yeah. 

Skinner pressed down with a surprisingly gentle hand. 

"That hurt?" 

"Some." 

Squeezing in another place, Skinner looked up at Doggett's hiss. 

"There, huh?" 

He nodded. "Oh, yeah." 

Satisfied, Skinner pulled the blanket over. "I don't think you ripped anything. Maybe just banged it up a little. It happens with a fall like that. You did sports?" 

Doggett nodded. "Football, track, baseball. The whole lot." he smiled ruefully. "Til I knocked the shit out of it, that is." 

Skinner smiled. "Me too." 

"Yeah?" 

Patting his own knee, Skinner pulled a face. "Decided fucked up knees weren't worth the trade-off to be star quarterback." 

Chuckling, Doggett shook his head. "I hear ya." He wasn't surprised to learn Skinner had been a jock. He had the physique. 

"So, you think I'll walk again?" he joked. 

Pulling a face, Skinner smiled. "Maybe. But I might be able help." Then in a swift motion, pulled the hem of his undershirt up and over his head. 

Mouth opening in shock, Doggett watched the AD's body slide into focus before his eyes, seemingly in slow motion. 

The body that the shirts had hinted at, that the tee-shirt failed to conceal. He swallowed convulsively. Jesus... the man was built like a brick shithouse. 

Doggett knew his eyes were tracking all over Skinner's chest, but couldn't help himself. All the meetings he'd spent wondering what the AD looked like under his clothes was blown away. The man was as hairy as he was bald and twice as sexy. 

Oh, God. He swallowed again. What did he mean... 'Help?' A number of things a bare-chested AD could do to help screamed into his mind. 

Doggett considered them all, one by one, wondering if he could give himself an erection just with those thoughts. 

Slowly morphing into real time, he watched Skinner lean over and dunk his shirt into the pot of cold water. 

Doggett touched his lips with his tongue, feeling extremely cotton-mouthed. 

"Seems kinda dumb, you doin' that. Seein' as we're tryin' to get dry an' all." He winced at the sound of his voice, lurching all over from Georgia through to New York without any real sense of direction. He wondered if Skinner could tell what it signalled about his current state of mind. 

"Here," Skinner wrung the excess water out and folded the shirt into a pad. "Put this on." 

"Huh?" 

Pulling the blanket aside to expose his leg all the way from the top of his shorts to his ankle, Skinner laid the shirt down and smoothed it down over the swollen knee. Doggett shivered. Not just from the cold. 

"There y'go. That might keep the swelling to a minimum." 

Oh, sweet Jesus... Doggett shuddered and pulled the material over his crotch. He really, really didn't need to think about 'swelling' right now. 

"Thanks," he croaked. 

Skinner just nodded and pulled his blanket on again. They went back to staring into the fire. 

Doggett watched the flames dance, tried to calm his heartbeat and wondered why the other man had used his dry shirt, when there was a wringing wet one right in front of them. 

* * *

Part 5 

It took a good half hour for Doggett to calm down. And it'd be at least another ten minutes on top of that he reckoned, before he could bring himself to look over at the man sitting next to him. He sighed and glanced at his watch instead. 

"What time is it?" 

"Half ten," he replied. 

Skinner grunted, not moving his gaze from the fire. Doggett snatched a quick look across at him. 

The fire-light danced in the lens of his glasses, giving him a vaguely satanic look. With the dark eyes, it suited him, Doggett thought. Made him look dangerous. He looked away. Yeah. Like he wasn't dangerous enough already. 

"I could murder a BLT," Skinner said out of the blue. 

Doggett nodded, in agreement. "Yeah. Loaded, with fries." 

"And a beer." 

"Two." 

They sat in silence again. 

His belly rumbled and Skinner sighed. "I'm going to personally kill the mechanic responsible for maintaining that car." 

"Get in line," Doggett adjusted the wet shirt under his blanket. "I'm gonna be limping for weeks." 

Skinner glanced over at him. "It still hurting?" 

Nodding, he plucked at the tee shirt, now warm. 

"Give me the shirt." Skinner held his hand out. 

Peeling it away, Doggett poked the material up through a gap. It was taken and dunked back in the water, squeezed and wrung out again. Primly exposing the one knee, Doggett waited for the press of cold shirt. 

Turning back to him, Skinner glanced at the little area of skin for a moment, then reached out and pulled the cloth away, exposing the leg all the way to the groin. 

Jesus! 

Doggett bit down on a yelp of surprise. His skin goosed up immediately in the night air. He opened his mouth to protest. 

"See if I can't get this thing tied on," Skinner muttered, frowning down at the dimpled flesh. 

He slid his hand under Doggett's thigh and lifted up slightly, bending his knee, making him hiss through his teeth. 

"Sorry." 

Grunting, Doggett was fleetingly grateful for the pain, it took away the intensity of having Skinner's palm resting on the inside of his thigh. 

"Hold this a second." 

The folded shirt balanced on the top of the raised knee, wobbling. 

Doggett slid his hand out and placed it carefully on the top. The way the blanket fell open left him feeling horribly exposed, giving Skinner a clear view all the way to his lap. The bald head was alarmingly close to his thigh where he was fiddling about under his knee, trying to tie the sleeves of his shirt together. 

Please-please-please-don't-get-a-hard-on, Doggett chanted to himself. The touch of the other man's hand on his leg was driving him insane. All his fantasies slammed into one moment - Skinner half-naked and touching him. It was too much to bear. 

He was absurdly grateful for the mixture mud, foul tea and damp blanket material hanging in the air - without those distractions, he was sure Skinner would be able to smell his arousal. 

"There y'go." Skinner sat up and regarded his handiwork. 

Doggett snatched his hand away and yanked the blanket across his lap. 

To his horror, he could feel himself swelling, and the more he willed it way, the more he grew. He cleared his throat, blushing. 

"Thanks." 

"You alright?" Skinner peered at him. 

"Yeah." 

"I hurt you?" 

Doggett cleared his throat again, feeling his voice crack. "Nah." 

"Good." 

They both did the fire-staring thing for a while again, with Doggett using the time to concentrate on subduing his erection. He had no idea, or any spare brain cells to wonder what Skinner was thinking. More logs were added to the fire, nothing added to the silence. Doggett frowned. Should he be making small talk? If it were anyone else but Skinner, would he be chatting away? The other man never struck him as the chatty type, but then they'd never spent any social time together to find out. Usually only saw each other over an office desk and from opposing points of view. 

He glanced over again. He'd learned more about his boss in the last few hours than he had in the previous two years of office-dwelling. As he watched, Skinner gave a jaw-cracking yawn, triggering a similar one in Doggett. 

"Sorry. It's catching," he said, grinning sheepishly. 

Doggett returned the grin, thinking how well the look suited the other man. "Yeah. I'm pretty beat." 

"Uh-huh." 

Didn't look like either of them was going to get any sleep, sitting on the hard, damp floor. Doggett could just hear his mother's hissy-fit about that. 'You'll get sick, Johnny,' she'd say, flapping her hands at him. He grinned wider and wondered what she'd say about him sitting here in his shorts. 

"What?" 

Skinner was looking at him. Doggett couldn't help himself, he smiled. 

"I was just thinking 'bout what my Ma would say about this." A blanketed hand waved. 

"This damp floor?" 

"Yeah." 

Doggett watched in fascination as Skinner laughed. It was a good sound. 

"I know what you mean. Mine too." 

Grinning, Doggett shook his head. "She'd slap me silly." 

Wiping his hand over his face, Skinner sighed and started to get up. "I need a piss," he muttered. He looked around the cabin. "Fuck. 

Oh great. No crapper." He paced about. 

"Have to go out the door, I guess." 

"Great. There's gotta be something we can use..." 

"Well, you're not pissin' in the drinkin' water." 

Skinner laughed. "It's supposed to be okay." 

Doggett snorted. "Knock yourself out, but I'm not drinking your piss. 

Hell, or mine, for that matter." 

"I didn't realize you had no sense of adventure, Agent Doggett." 

"Yeah? Well, I reckon sitting in a garden shed in my skivvies, with a fucked-up knee is enough adventure for any man." 

Digging around inside the cabinet, Skinner muttered something, then emerged with a sour look. "Nothing." 

"It's the great outdoors then." 

Heaving a huge sigh, Skinner stomped over to the front door and rattled the lock about. 

"Dammit. Just what I need." 

He jerked the door open and stuck his nose out. "Fuck, it's cold!" 

Doggett looked away. He didn't need to watch the man piss. His imagination was doing it for him. He could hear him cursing and muttering, standing half in the doorway, taking care of business. The thought alone was enough to send busy signals down to his own bladder. 

Shit. 

Doggett winced and wriggled. Now he needed to go. Oh, that was just peachy. 

The door slammed, closing off the howling gale that had flooded the room. 

"You need to...?" Skinner waved at the door. 

Nibbling at his lip, Doggett contemplated lying and saying he was okay, but the thought of trying to make it through the whole night without pissing in his shorts was unappealing. 

"Yeah. I guess." Tensing his leg, he dreaded having to walk across the small cabin. Oh shit. He'd just have to suck it up and deal with the pain. 

Sighing, he braced himself to stand. 

"Here." Skinner was at his side, his hand outstretched. 

Doggett looked up. The last thing he needed was any help from a half-naked man. 

"Nah. S'okay. I can manage." 

He pulled himself up, biting down on his lip. Skinner stood, arms folded, watching, his eyebrow raised, making no comment at the display of macho posturing. Doggett frowned. Screw it - he could do this. He wasn't a cripple. He gingerly put his foot on the floor. 

"Aw!! shit..." 

Skinner was suddenly at his side, supporting his arm, taking the weight off his bad leg. He said nothing, just moved closer and wrapped Doggett's arm around his neck and slipped his hand under the blanket to rest on his waist. 

Doggett froze. 

Oh... shit. 

The world tilted crazily and narrowed to the feel of Skinner's hand on his hip, the grip around his wrist, the closeness of the other body. The other bare body. 

"I'm fine..." he started to say. 

"Shut up and just start hopping, Agent," Skinner growled, frighteningly close to Doggett's ear. 

Taking the instruction and his heart in his mouth, he began to limp across the room, his whole body on red alert with he sensations rioting through him. Terrified and almost hysterical, he could feel his groin stirring in response to the feelings. 

Oh, God, please no... screwing up his face, he concentrated on hobbling on one leg and crushing the building eroticism without much success. Every step brought Skinner's hip bumping into contact with his own, his armpit was stuffed full of Skinner's shoulder, snug and warm. But the place the other man's hand rested felt branded. Doggett wondered if he'd find a mark there, later. 

"Thanks," he muttered, unwilling to turn his head to look. 

Skinner grunted. They reached the doorway and he slid from under Doggett's arm and moved away, leaving him standing like a stork, abandoned and bereft. 

"Can you manage? Leaning on the frame?" Skinner asked. 

For one hysterical moment, he heard himself asking Skinner to hold it for him while he pissed, but he swallowed and nodded instead. 

"Uh-huh. No problem." 

Opening the door for him, Skinner stepped back and let the howling wind in, billowing the blanket around Doggett's shoulders and freezing away any traces of a hard-on. 

Just as well, he thought, rummaging in his shorts. All he needed was Skinner asking why he was taking so long. Shuddering, he screwed up his face and concentrated. 

Come on...come on... 

It was too cold, too fucking cold. His bladder spasmed and his dick had shrivelled in indignation. Come on... Shivering violently, he pushed hard, forcing a pathetic dribble, then with a rush, a healthy stream of piss shot out of him, mingling with the rivulets of water on the front step. 

Thank God. 

He stood, head back, enjoying the moment of release, then as it tailed off, began to shiver again. 

Jesus, it was cold. Shaking off, he stuffed himself away and snapped the elastic on his shorts, gathering the blanket with his free hand. 

"You done?" 

Skinner stood behind him. Doggett wondered how long he'd been there. 

"Yeah." He hopped backwards, allowing the door to be slammed in place. "Shit - it's cold!" 

"Uh-huh." Skinner stepped easily back into his personal space and took his arm over his shoulder. 

Turning them both back into the room, he walked Doggett towards the fire. 

"You're freezing again," he commented. 

"Y-yeah," Doggett juddered, shivering violently despite the warmth of Skinner's body next to his. 

Looking up from the floor, he noticed that the bed had been pulled forward and lay in front of the fire where they'd been sitting. He stopped. 

Glancing at him, Skinner frowned. "What?" 

Doggett said nothing, just stared at the bed. 

"I am not sleeping on the floor, Agent Doggett." He pulled Doggett closer to the cot. "I don't know about you, but I'm far too old for that shit." 

Did that mean that he was relegated to the floor? Or did it mean Skinner planned on them both... 

The thought dried up in Doggett's head. 

"Sit." Skinner dumped him down on the edge of the bed. 

"But..." 

"What?" 

Looking at the lumpy mattress, Doggett wondered what to say that wouldn't make him sound like a jackass or a pervert. 

"We'll manage," Skinner said, putting some more wood on the fire. 

"But..." It was getting real hard to form a sentence. 

"Look." Skinner stood with his hands on his hips, the dancing firelight behind him showing his figure off admirably. Doggett stared. "I know it'll be a bit of a squeeze, but providing neither of us wriggle about too much I'm sure we'll cope." 

Doggett wasn't sure he'd cope. Not sure at all. He stared up at Skinner in silent protest. 

Skinner didn't seem too impressed. "Lie down." 

Doggett sat there, draped in his blanket, still shivering, embarrassment adding to his misery. 

* * *

Part 6 

Eventually, Skinner sighed. 

"Agent Doggett, what is your problem?" 

A long list of problems rattled off in Doggett's head - starting with for A for AD, through E for Erection all the way to X for X file, but he didn't feel he could mention any of them. 

He pulled a face. "I dunno. Just seems weird, is all," he muttered, picking at the edge of the wet tee shirt on his knee. 

Skinner made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. 

"I'm sure you've made do with sleeping in less comfortable surroundings in your life." 

"Yeah..." Doggett grumbled. "But none of them have been with my boss." 

His head jerked up. Oh shit. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. 

Skinner gave him a sideways look and snorted. "Yeah... well, I've spent the night with better-looking people than you, Agent Doggett, but beggars can't be choosers and I'm damned if I'm going to freeze my ass off because you've got some sort of virgin complex. Now lie the hell down." 

Doggett eyebrows shot up. He wanted to protest that he didn't have a fucking 'virgin complex', he wanted to yell that in point of fact, his problem was going to be keeping his dick from doing the hokey pokey with delight, but he couldn't get his brain past the phrase Skinner had used. 'Better-looking people'. 

Not women. Not girls. 

People. 

What the fuck did he mean by that? Could it mean what Doggett thought it meant? Was Skinner using the generalisation deliberately? Or was he just hearing what he wanted to hear? 

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Christ, it was too fucking complicated. 

"Lie down." Not an invitation, this time. More like the kind of order Skinner was used to issuing. 

He hesitated, then Skinner took a step forward. 

"Now." 

Doggett gave the other man one last token look then swung his legs up onto the bed with a groan. 

His knee didn't like that one bit. 

He stretched out. It was long enough, but there was no way two of them would fit on here. 

No way in the world. Doggett stared up at the darkened ceiling and sighed again. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Skinner busying himself with the fire, adding yet more wood, poking it about with the tongs. He took his glasses off and laid them on the shelf above the fireplace. This was a going to be a memorable night, Doggett mused to himself. Either the longest, most uncomfortable night of his recent life or the one that lost him his job. 

Skinner moved towards the bed. 

"Lie on your side," he said, moving round the bed. 

Doggett started to roll, wondering which night it was going to be. 

"Not that way. Turn over to face the fire. And give me your blanket." 

"I thought I was supposed to be keeping warm?" Doggett grouched, lifting his shoulder to free the material. 

"You will be," Skinner told him, taking the blanket and sitting down behind him. 

Bending his knees up as far as the injury would allow, he wrapped his arms around himself. Goddamn, it was cold. 

The bed dipped alarmingly as Skinner lowered the rest of his not inconsiderable bulk down. 

The springs groaned loudly as the big man shifted. 

Doggett winced. "Jesus... You think it'll take the weight?" 

"You calling me fat?" Skinner said from somewhere near the back of Doggett's very tense neck. 

Grunting in reply, Doggett stared wide-eyed into the flickering flames, trying to work out what was going on behind him and how he was going to get through the whole night perched on the lip of the bed without falling off. 

There was a whisper of material over his bare legs as a blanket fluttered down to cover them. 

It only just reached his waist. Peering down, Doggett wondered how in the hell they were supposed to keep warm like this. He wiggled his toes. At least his feet would be okay. 

"Lift up a second," Skinner told him. 

"Huh?" 

A finger tapped his shoulder. "Your head." 

Sighing, Doggett obeyed. He bent his head at an angle and rolled his eyes. 

"What the hell you doing, Skinner?" 

"Patience." 

"Patience my ass, I'm freezing!" 

"Stop bitching." 

Half of the other blanket came sailing over to land on the bed next to Doggett's hand. He reached to tuck it round. 

"Bout time." 

"Oh, shut up," Skinner sighed, taking Doggett by surprise as he slipped his hand between his head and the pillow, looping it across his chest to grasp his shoulder. Doggett yelped as Skinner pulled him back sharply against his chest. 

"What!?" Doggett was sure his voice hadn't been that high since Grade school. 

"Get comfy." 

"I was comfy!" Doggett squeaked. The big hand was hot on his skin, sending all sorts of signals to his body. Behind him, Skinner wriggled to get comfy, bending his legs up to Doggett's. 

"You were not comfortable in that position." 

"I was!" 

"You were hanging on to the edge of the bed by your fingernails. 

Agent." 

"Was not!" 

Skinner sighed, his breath ruffling the back of Doggett's hair. "Are you always this difficult?" 

"I wouldn't know." Doggett could feel his self winding up for a tantrum. This was fucking outrageous... And if the man wanted difficult, then Doggett could give it to him. He opened his mouth to enlighten the other man on 'difficult'. 

But Skinner's arm came snaking over his side to completely envelop him in Assistant Director. 

Eyes on full beam, Doggett squirmed as the other hand spread out across his belly. 

Oh. God... 

"Relax, will you?" 

"I'm tryin'." 

"Well try harder," Skinner muttered, preempting him. 

Doggett growled quietly. Bossy son of a bitch. Bastard had no idea what this was doing to him. He squirmed slightly, trying to discreetly slip a hand down to cover his crotch. 

"And lie still." 

"This is not easy, you know!" Doggett exploded. "I don't make a habit of..." 

He spluttered over what to say, how to convey his feelings about cuddling up to another man. True he didn't make a habit of it, but it wasn't entirely out of the question, and he had only had a dry spell through lack of opportunity and interest in anyone else since he laid eyes on his boss. But he couldn't very well say that. Talk about career-suicide. He'd never be able to run away from an outraged Skinner with this knee. 

Skinner interrupted him again. "I don't care what you do or don't make a habit of. All I'm interested in is getting some sleep. Aren't you?" 

Doggett opened his mouth to agree, but a chuckle from behind him stopped the words. 

"Or did you have something else in mind?" 

"What the FUCK!" 

He knew he'd shouted that Skinner's chuckle evolved into a laugh. "Relax, John. I'm just yanking your chain." 

Doggett spluttered, utterly at a loss of what to say to Skinner 'yanking', or anything else he might have had in mind. The feel of that breath on his nape was driving him crazy. 

"Do you mind if I call you John? I feel rather strange referring to you as 'Agent' cuddled up in bed." 

Doggett screwed up his face. "Awww, fuckin' hell, Skinner..." 

The huff of laughter again. "Okay. I'm sorry. I couldn't resist that." 

Doggett turned his head slightly. "What the hell's wrong with you, man?" 

He felt the fingers flex on his belly. It was extremely distracting, the weight of the arm resting across his side making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just the proximity of the man himself. He felt Skinner shake his head. "You don't take teasing well, do you?" 

Doggett huffed into the edge of the blanket. "That all depends." 

"Yeah? On what?" 

"On whether I'm cold, sore and lying in bed with my direct superior, sir." 

"Ah." 

They lay quietly for a minute or two, each lost in thought. Or at least Doggett was swamped with chattering in his head. He had no idea about Skinner's. He could be fast asleep for all he could tell. It was going to be a long time before Doggett dared close his eyes for longer than a blink. He tried to concentrate on co-ordinating his breathing with the need for oxygen, but he was having a bit of trouble getting it right. It was either gasp or hold his breath, with nothing sensible in between. 

The arm over his side twitched. "You still cold?" 

"A bit." 

Skinner's arms tightened around him, rubbing up and down the goosy skin. Oh, God... Doggett screwed his eyes up. That was all he needed. Rhythmic friction. He swallowed, biting his lip against the sensation. 

"Better?" 

"Uh-huh. Thank you." 

He must have really pissed God off at some point. 

* * *

Part 7 

He lay rigid, trying to keep perfectly still. The way Skinner had pulled him tight, he was pressed into both the other man's chest and groin. He was practically sitting in his lap, for Chrissakes! And much as this might rank as number three on his list of fun things to do with his boss, reality was proving to be another matter. If he wriggled about, Skinner might think he was coming on to him. Besides, the idea of having his ass jammed up hard against Skinner's groin was enough mental stimulation to make his dick swell. 

Christ... 

As if the stray thought triggered the event, a creeping warmth in the pit of his stomach warned that things were getting interesting in his shorts. He clamped down with his hand. 

"John?" 

"Uh-huh?" 

"Relax." 

Yeah, right. That was gonna happen this century. 

"I'm tryin'," he said. 

"Well you could start by breathing properly." 

"Ha-ha. Very funny." That was too fucking close for comfort. Doggett ran his tongue around a cotton mouth. He'd sell his soul for a beer right about now. A beer and his own bed. 

"Gimme a break, Skinner. I'm tryin' my best." 

There was a shift in the bedsprings, and the arms slithered away. 

Perversely, Doggett missed their comforting weight. He felt Skinner raise up on his elbow and peered down at him. 

"This really bothers you, doesn't it?" 

Another sigh. "No." 

"Yeah, right." 

"Look..." Doggett lifted his hand in a helpless gesture. "Whaddya want me to say? I could say no... But I get the feeling you wouldn't believe me. So, yes, this bothers me. It bothers me a lot, okay?" 

The hand dropped to the bed. 

A long silence followed his outburst. Doggett lay motionless, wondering what the reaction was going to be. Maybe a tirade about government employees and homophobia. Or a fight over who got the bed, even a pissy snit would be reasonable, he thought. 

"I see." 

Well that was a bit of a disappointment. He'd expected shouting at least. 

"You reckon?" 

He saw the nod out of the corner of his eye. 

"So. Is your problem with me, or just men in general?" There was an undercurrent to the other man's tone that he couldn't put his finger on. 

Doggett sighed. "I don't got a problem with either, okay? Can we just drop it?" 

"Well, being as we're stuck here, no. I don't think we can. And your grammar's appalling." 

Groaning, Doggett covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes til they hurt. He didn't want to be doing this now. Not now... Not at all. Not ever. 

"Jesus, Skinner. I'm tired. My knee hurts like a bitch and I'd rather be tucked up warm in my own bed than squashed in this fuckin' uncomfortable thing, if it's all the same to you. Nothin' personal, but this ain't my idea of a good time." 

"I see." 

Doggett identified that tone of voice. It was hurt. Oh great - now he was uncomfortable, embarrassed and feeling like a complete shit. He pulled his hands away from his face. "Look... I'm sorry, Skinner. I'm a lousy bedmate and an ungrateful son of a bitch." He reached behind and took hold of a wrist and pulled it back over his side, cursing himself as he did it. 

"Please. Lie down. Get some sleep." 

Grudgingly, Skinner allowed his hand to be placed near Doggett's chest, and even more slowly, the other one slithered underneath to where it had rested on his belly. 

"If you're sure?" 

"I'm sure, okay?" 

I outta my fuckin mind, that's what I am, Doggett scowled to himself. 

He forced himself to tuck Skinner's hand under his chin while he shoved his own down to his underwear, just in case. "See? All snuggled up and cozy." 

There was a faint sarcastic snort behind him. Doggett smiled slightly. 

* * *

Part 8 

It must have been one of the logs falling that woke him. Cracking his eyes open, Doggett stared at the fire. It was lower than before, but in no danger of going out thanks to the amount of wood Skinner had shoved on. 

For the first time since the early evening, he was warm. In fact, he was lovely and toasty. Skinner was better than an electric blanket. 

Grinning in the dark, Doggett allowed himself a few moments to secretly relish his position. 

There was a stripe of heat running down his back and over his side where Skinner touched him all the way down to their tangled, bare feet. It was very comforting, and hugely erotic. Mind you, with the lack of sex he'd had lately, he probably be turned on cuddling up with a plank of wood, let alone someone he found very attractive. He squeezed his dick. It was at half-mast, keen to stand to attention with the slightest encouragement. Shame he couldn't give himself a swift hand-job, he thought, relaxing his hand again. Wouldn't take very long. And maybe he could get back to sleep. The grin widened at the thought of trying to jerk off without waking Skinner. Best not. 

He could be pretty vocal. 

His grin widened at the memory of the first time he'd acknowledged this particular side of his nature, and fooled around with one of his fellow recruits, waking up most of the boot camp. He might be able to last longer now he was older, but he still screamed like a banshee. Yawning, he almost stretched his legs, but a sharp stab behind his kneecap made him think better of it. 

"You okay?" 

Jumping guiltily, Doggett turned his head. "Jesus, Skinner! You wanna give me a heart-attack?" 

He couldn't see the other man,but felt the warm huff on his neck. He could feel himself blushing at the thoughts that had been running through his head. He cleared his throat. "Can't you sleep?" 

"Napping." 

"Uh-huh." 

He cleared his throat again. 

"You getting sick?" 

"Nah." Doggett shook his head. "It's just this fucking dust." 

"Not exactly the Ritz, is it?" 

Laughing softly, Doggett let go of the wrist he was embarrassed to discover he'd been holding. "That's exactly what I thought when we made the booking." 

Skinner chuffed into his neck, raising goosebumps down the backs of his legs. "I'll see if I can do better, next time." 

Doggett froze, eyes wide. 

Next time....? 

The words hung in the room like pink dust-motes. Like a rainbow fart. 

Did the man have any idea what he just said? Doggett wondered if he should ignore it, or make a joke? What he'd like to do was arrange a time and place, but he didn't think that was a wise course of action. He decided to go with levity. 

"Yeah? Well I'll expect more than stale tea, or there ain't gonna be a next time." 

"Champagne?" 

"At least." 

"Think you're worth it?" 

Doggett swallowed. Oh fuckin hell... This was fast getting out of hand, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. 

"Hey... I don't take my clothes off for anything less." 

Skinner grunted a chuckle. "Seems to me it just takes rain and a little bit of mud to get you mostly naked." 

Doggett bit down on his lip, hard. The conversation had taken its toll on his dick. He could feel his hand rapidly filling. Time to put a stop to this. 

"You know... Sounds like you've been givin' that a lot of thought." 

Silence filled the room, and he fancied he could hear Skinner thinking about that. Eventually, he made a noise that sounded like a sigh. 

"Some." 

Oh, shit, that wasn't what he expected to hear. Frowning, Doggett thought for a moment. 

"You wanna elaborate on that?" 

"Not really." 

Doggett sighed. Whether Skinner had been deliberately provocative or not, he didn't seem inclined to talk about it. Maybe that was just as well. 

"Suit yourself." 

There was a long pause, then Skinner spoke quietly. "Well, like you said. It's kind of weird." 

"Being in bed with me, or with another man in general?" Doggett threw it back at him. 

"Uh-uh. I'll take the Fifth." 

Doggett gave an ironic bark of laughter. "Oh, gee, thanks, Skinner." 

"I didn't mean it like that." 

"Yeah? Tell that to my wounded pride." 

Sighing, Skinner lifted his head to perch his chin over Doggett's shoulder. "Don't be such a pissy shit. You know what I mean." 

Too close... way to close... Doggett swallowed. Oh fuck. It was kissing-distance. His dick swelled even more. 

"Yeah, well. Maybe I do." 

"Well then." 

The chin dropped back, and Doggett closed his eyes in relief. He lay gripping his genitals, willing the blood to go somewhere else and tried to banish the words 'next time' from his head. 

With his free hand he scratched the end of his nose and tried to lighten the mood. Despite the last conversation, he was surprised to find he was actually enjoying this. He didn't want an atmosphere to come between them. 

"You know, I'm real warm, now. Thanks." 

"Good. Just say if you get too hot." He moved the hand on Doggett's belly in a small gesture. "My ex used to complain." 

Doggett laughed gently. 

"About the heat," Skinner said, pointedly. 

"Of course." 

Skinner grunted, making Doggett chuckle even more. 

This was comfortable, now that he was more relaxed. Lying like this might not be the red-hot sexual acrobatics he'd dreamed about, but it was nice, all the same. Warm and cozy. And in the scale of things, better than nothing. The warmth from where he rested in Skinner's groin was lovely, keeping a steady thrum going right through to his own. 

He scratched again. The blanket was dusty as hell. 

"What time is it?" 

Doggett lifted his wrist out of the covers and pressed the illuminating button. "Twenty past..." 

The rest of the word was obliterated by an enormous sneeze tht took him by surprise and rocketed out of his body. 

"Gawd!!!" 

His eyes watered. Another one built up and exploded, jerking him almost in two. 

Sniffing and wiping his eyes, he cleared his throat. 

"Sorry 'bout that." 

"S'okay." 

"There'll probably be another one along soon. I always..." 

The third sneeze was the biggest. He yelled as he did it, undignified and loudly, dimly aware that each sneeze had shoved his ass deeper into Skinner's lap. Damn. And he hadn't even had the chance to enjoy it. Typical. 

Slowly the fuzz in his head cleared, and he became aware that Skinner's hands had moved to grip him tighter across the chest and... 

His insides spasmed as he realised Skinner's other hand had slipped lower on his stomach than was safe. Dangerously close to the top of his shorts and what was currently lurking in them. 

"All done?" The chin lodged up on his shoulder, adding to the problem. "Or do I have to brace myself again?" 

Doggett shook his head, sniffing. He wiped the back of his hand under his nose, aware it wasn't especially nice, but it was that or the blanket. 

"Done," he said. He had an uncontrollable urge to grab Skinner's hand and pull it up out of harms way, but couldn't think of a good enough reason to explain it. 

He really needed to put his hand back down to hide the changing shape of his underwear. 

He lay, rigid, desperately trying to think of something to distract both himself and Skinner. 

Slowly, he snaked his right hand under the covers, along the mattress and down the mattress to his groin. 

"Three times, huh?" 

"Always been the same," Doggett replied, taking the opportunity to bypass Skinner's hand and cover his dick. "One after the other. Bam, bam, bam. Just like that." 

"Freak." 

Angling his head in surprise, he peered as far as he could. "Thanks." 

"Good job you don't have allergies." 

"Tell me about it. Damn things turn me inside out." 

He grinned, feeling Skinner laughing softly. That was good. He liked that sound. Could get used to it. He wondered what he could do to get him to do it again. 

"Do you need to piss again?" 

Doggett frowned. "Huh?" 

Skinner nudged the arm that was between his legs. "You're holding yourself. Do you need to piss?" 

Some of the blood currently pooled in Doggett's groin came roaring up to his face. If the light had been halfway decent, he knew his ears would be bright red. 

"I, er..." 

Oh, fucking hell. What could he say? There was no way he could pretend to need a piss. He was as dry as a bone. He'd be lucky to squeeze two drops. 

"Nah... I, um..." 

There was chuckle behind his glowing ear. 

"Relax, John. I get it. The excitement of the moment is all too much." 

The indignity of being busted caught the breath in Doggett's throat. Never mind too close for comfort, that was a direct fucking hit. Was he that transparent? Had Skinner guessed, and was poking fun? Maybe the earlier comments were more of the same. 

Shit, that hurt. He had no business feeling that way at Skinner's teasing, but damn it, he did. 

"Yeah... Well, you ain't never gonna know for sure, are you?" he snapped, pulling his knees up higher, relishing the stab of pain as a distraction. He snatched his hand off his dick and used it to wrap around his side, pushing Skinner's arm away. 

* * *

Part 9 

The silence that followed confirmed his fear. He'd really pissed the other man off, now. Any second he'd find himself thrown out of the bed and lying on the wooden floor. Yeah, well, he'd happily sleep on the goddamn floor. 

Glaring at the fire, Doggett concentrated on maintaining his anger. 

Shit. 

"I didn't mean anything by that, you know." 

Fraid that was just the wrong side of an apology to be accepted, Doggett thought. 

"What makes you think I give a shit what you meant." 

Skinner contemplated that for a while. "Your body language, maybe?" 

"My what?" 

"It kind of gives me the impression you're pissed." 

"You think so?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Well, maybe you should stop thinking about my body and go back to sleep." 

Again the silence stretched out between them. Doggett was beginning to regret flouncing away on the bed. He was back to perching right on the edge, the sharp rim digging into his leg. 

Sleep was going to be a long way off, at this rate. 

There was a sigh. "That's easier said, than done," said a quiet voice, followed by more silence. 

Doggett frowned, re-winding and turning up the volume on Skinner's last comment. What the hell...? 

"What did..." 

"Nothing." 

Like hell it was nothing. Doggett craned his neck around to look. Without the glasses, he looked younger. A cliche, but true. There was nothing for him to hide behind. He looked softer, too. Perhaps that was why he wore them, and not contacts. Thought he had a certain image to maintain. 

"Did you say what I tho..." 

"It was nothing. Forget it." 

"Like hell. What's easier said than done?" 

Skinner sighed. "Why d'you ask if you heard me?" 

Making an impatient movement with his hand, Doggett scowled. "Because I'm an irritating pain in the ass. Now - what did you mean?" 

Skinner wasn't saying. He lay in the half-light, staring up at the ceiling, one arm raised above his head. 

"Well?" 

"You're right," he said eventually. 

"Bout what?" 

"You are an irritating pain in the ass." 

Giving in to the laughter, Doggett chuckled. Even sulking and insulting him, the man could make him feel good. 

"You noticed that, huh?" 

"I'm your boss. I'm paid to notice." 

Letting the laugh run its course into a sigh, Doggett stared at the ceiling too. It was really too dark to see it properly, and he'd bet Skinner couldn't see much of it at all, without his glasses. He yawned, feeling his jaw creak. This was just plain dumb. He was exhausted, and he'd bet Skinner was, too. 

"Hey..." 

"What?" 

Reaching over, Doggett took hold of the stray wrist. "Take no notice of me. I'm just a pain in the ass." He brought Skinner's arm over him, back to where it had been before. "Let's try to go to sleep, huh?" 

Wriggling to get his leg off the edge of the bed, Doggett felt the damp teeshirt on his knee loosen. It wrapped around his leg snagging unpleasantly. 

"Just a sec..." He bent over and tugged at the material, grunting slightly. "Gotta get this..." 

He'd pushed his ass backwards and into Skinner's lap as he struggled with the shirt and the words died in his throat as he encountered what felt most definitely like a hard-on. 

HolyMarymotherofGod. It was wedged right in the crack of his ass. 

Silently pulling the shirt out from under the covers, Doggett slowly went over his options. 

He could pretend he hadn't felt the impressive bulge. 

He could make a joke about it and then ignore said bulge. 

Or he could look his boss in the face as ask what the hell it meant. 

He frowned. Maybe he should just turn over and plant a big, wet kiss on the other man and see what happened. 

Clearing his throat, Skinner saved him from having to say anything. "I'm sorry..." He began to get up. "I'll take the floor." 

Quickly reaching for his arm, Doggett held him still. "Don't." 

Skinner froze. "Don't do that." 

In shadow, Doggett watched the face contort in embarrassment. 

"I should really..." 

"No. You shouldn't." He pulled the bigger man back down. "It's okay. Really." 

"No it isn't," Skinner muttered. "It's fucking humiliating." 

Grinning, Doggett shook his head. This was incredible! Better than he could ever have hoped. The boss-man had a boner. A Doggett-inflicted boner! How cool was that? Looked there might be potential here. All he had to do was make sure he didn't freak the other man out. 

He shrugged a shoulder, still keeping tight hold of the big wrist."Give yourself a break. It happens." 

There was a low growl from behind him. "Not to me." 

"And what d'you think makes you so special, huh?" 

A growl laced with a snort, this time. 

"Contrary to popular belief, you're only human." 

No comment. 

He tried again. "You know... I really should be apologising to you." 

There was a pause, but Doggett waited patiently. 

"How d'you figure that?" Skinner asked at last. 

"Cos you were right..." 

Taking a better grip on Skinner's wrist and his life in his hands, he pushed the other man's hand south. Over the top of his boxers, to save giving the man a heart attack just yet. All the way down to his own personal 'like to get to know you better' tucked away in schoolboy grey. 

"You were right when you said about the situation getting too much for me." 

* * *

Part 10 

This time the silence stretched almost to breaking point. To the point where Doggett's nerves felt like they were about to snap. Of course, on the plus side, the hand hadn't moved, and more to the point, Skinner hadn't leaped out of bed and beaten him to death with a chair leg. That had to be a good thing. 

"Oh." 

Glancing behind, Doggett's eyebrows rose. "Oh? Is that it?" 

"I'm..." Appearing to struggle with speaking, Skinner pulled face. 

"You're what? Shocked?" 

"Not exactly..." 

"Okay. Embarrassed, then." Doggett sighed and released the wrist. "Tell you what, how 'bout we both go back to sleep and agree never to mention this little incident again?" 

To his intense surprise, the hand on his dick opened up and pressed down. 

"I wouldn't call this a little incident, John." 

Doggett couldn't help the little gasp and pushing his hips up. "Jesus, Skinner." 

"Walter Skinner, actually. But thank you for the compliment." 

Breathing in too fast and laughing at the same time gave Doggett a coughing-jag that took his mind off his dick for a minute or two. When he got his breath back, the hand was gone. 

He missed it. 

He turned awkwardly and looked questioningly at Skinner. The dark eyes just stared back. 

Doggett wanted to ask 'was that it?' He wanted to reach over and put that warm hand back where he wanted it. Hell, where he needed it. As he stared, Skinner's eyes slid away from his and studied the mattress. 

"What?" The bigger man asked at last, frowning. 

"I was just thinkin'..." 

"I bet you were." 

Doggett smiled. "I was just thinkin' this might not turn out to be such a shitty night, after all." 

The eyes came back up to meet his. "Oh?" 

"Well..." He shrugged. "I'd kinda like to..." 

"What?" 

"Can we... I mean, would you like to..." 

Rubbing his forehead and sighing, he wondered why this was so awkward. Never usually had this problem with another guy. Usually straight to the point and direct. He let his hand drop in disgust at his reticence.. "Aww, fuck it." 

He watched as Skinner's eyebrow rose. 

"You wanna do something about this?" he said, all in a rush. "I mean... No strings, no big deal, but I could sure use some relief, here." 

He was mightily relieved to hear a chuckle coming out of the man next to him. 

"No... Don't sweet-talk me, John." 

"Hey.... Gimme a break. You know what I'm tryin' to say." 

"Maybe." 

"Jeez, Skinner! This ain't easy." 

Nodding, Skinner scratched at the side of his nose. "No. It's not." 

Doggett watched as various emotions flitted across Skinner's face. He couldn't make head nor tail of any of them. Couldn't work out if this was a situation the other man had ever been in before. He hoped this wasn't a first for him. He didn't know if he could handle the pressure. 

"So..." 

Doggett raised his eyebrows, waiting for the man to carry on. "So?" 

They stared at one another, silent. Doggett began to wonder if Skinner was trying to think of a polite way to turn him down. The silence sighed on, punctuated only by the crackle of firewood and the sound of their breathing. Doggett wanted to prompt the other man, but was damned if he was going to speak first. He thought he'd done his fair share of talking. 

At last, Skinner took a deep breath. "How d'you want to do this?" 

Relief crashed through Doggett's body, making him limp with the release of tension. Well, nearly limp. His dick throbbed, the consequence of Skinner's words sending all available blood to his groin. He grinned hugely. 

"As soon as possible," he laughed. 

"Eager, aren't we?" 

"Oh, God yeah." 

Skinner looked at him strangely. "You're going to tell me this has crossed your mind before, aren't you?" 

"Only about a hundred times a day," Doggett admitted, surprising himself. 

"God, John..." 

"Hey..." He shrugged. "What can I say? My boss is seriously stacked, and I got a weakness for Italian genes." 

Skinner smiled. "That a fact?" 

"Sure is." 

"And the whole 'boss-thing'?" 

Doggett held up a hand."Uh-uh. You mention work and I really am going to sleep on the floor." 

"Sorry. Okay... Deal. Not another word." 

"Good. Now how 'bout you undo those pants so I we can do something about this situation." 

Skinner put his hands on his waistband and began to undo the fastenings. "You always this bossy in bed?" he muttered, shaking his head, smiling. 

"Uh-huh." 

Doggett watched fascinated by the sight of those strong fingers working the buttons and zipper of the dress pants. The pants he'd spent many a meeting staring at and fantasising about. 

Pausing, Skinner looked across somewhat shyly. "You want to... You know, do this together?" 

Doggett nodded. "God, yeah. Only hope I can concentrate." 

Laughing, Skinner shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not going to be filling out an Employee Evaluation on you." 

Doggett laughed. "You're mentioning work again?" 

"Sorry." 

Rolling over, being careful not to jar his knee, Doggett wriggled around until he was facing the other man. He reached to help tug the pants down, then paused. "Is this okay?" 

"Trust me, John, we left 'okay' a while back." 

Laying his hand over Skinner's, Doggett spoke quietly. "Hey. We don't have to do this, you know. If you're uncomfortable..." 

Giving a rueful bark of laughter, Skinner hooked his thumbs over the top of his pants. "Actually, I think I'd be more uncomfortable if we don't do this." 

Letting another full-bodied laugh out, watched as the pants and underwear slipped down around a pair of hairy knees. 

"That's far enough. No need to take them off." 

"Not much of a romantic, are you, Doggett?" 

"Practicality. It's too fuckin' cold for romance." 

Doggett looked down at Skinner's body, his stomach clenching with excitement. He reached out to touch, all thoughts of old fantasies cleared out of his head. 

Finally. He got to touch. 

The bigger man jumped slightly. 

"My hand cold?" 

Skinner shook his head. "Uh-uh." 

"Okay." Taking his time to run his fingers up and down, exploring, discovering the texture and shape, Doggett allowed his hand to roam freely over the whole of Skinner's straining erection. 

"This isn't the first time, you know," Skinner said suddenly. 

Doggett chuckled. "Funny. I don't remember that particular meeting." 

"Asshole... I meant, with another man, you know." 

Glancing up at the brown eyes, Doggett nodded, hiding his surprise. "Me neither." 

Then they were quiet again as Doggett concentrated on what he was doing. With the vague notion that this may very well be the one and only time he got to lay his hands on this man, he mapped out the body, learning the lines. Memorising it for the future. 

"Hey... Mind if I join in?" 

He glanced up. Skinner was smiling at him. 

"Sure." Lifting his hips, he shimmied his shorts down with impatient tugs. 

There was a moment of glorious anticipation, and then Skinner's hand was on him, sending sparks of lust through Doggett's groin, threatening to tip him over them edge. He pulled in a shaky breath, and shut his eyes, trying to clamp down on the feelings. It wouldn't be real cool for him to go and shoot is load within two seconds. Even if he felt like he could with the way Skinner was running his fist up and down his dick. The tight grip was well on the way to milking him dry. 

He swallowed, hard. Don't come...don't come, he told himself. Not yet. 

"You okay?" 

Doggett opened his eyes and cleared his throat. "Sure. Just... It's been a while, you know." 

"Sure." The hand slowed to a feather-like touch. "That better?" 

"It's all better. Trust me." 

"Good." 

* * *

Part 11 

Silence fell again as Doggett recovered slightly and returned to stroking Skinner the same way. 

Now-to-nose, knuckles occasionally bumping each other, they lay watching their hands. 

Doggett thought it was the most erotic thing he'd seen in his life. 

His dick seemed huge, swollen and rock hard. The way he was leaking, it looked like he was way ahead of Skinner. And that wouldn't do at all. 

Taking his hand away, he grinned and brought it up to his mouth. This was gonna give him the edge. Never failed. Gathering up as much spit as he could, he slathered his tongue across his palm and fingers, staring into Skinner's curious eyes. 

Still grinning, he put his hand back down and drew it up the shaft, relishing the hissing noise that Skinner made. 

"God..." The bigger man said breathlessly, his hand jerking on Doggett in response. 

"Good?" 

"Oh, shit, yeah." 

"Uh-huh." 

Up and down, tight and loose, Doggett proceeded to rapidly bring Skinner to the same point that he was currently at, which was about thirty seconds from coming. 

"Christ!" Skinner's eyes screwed up. 

"Oh, yeah..." 

Gathering pace, Doggett moved his wrist in a more urgent rhythm, feeling Skinner do the same to him. His nuts tightened. Shit... This wasn't going to take long. The chill of the room was gone, the pain in his knee, out of reach. All that mattered was lying next to him. All he could think of was that he was in bed with Walter Skinner, and that he was touching him intimately. 

That thought was the last straw. 

"Aw... Fuck..." he groaned loudly. 

His hips began to jerk, suddenly there was nothing he could do. His body was telling him enough was enough, stop fucking around and orgasm, for Chrissake. 

A couple more strokes of Skinner's hand and he obliged, shooting out over the big knuckles onto the mattress with a strangled bellow that hurt his throat. 

The force of his climax tightened his hand around Skinner's flesh, and the added pressure must have done the trick, because over the white-noise in his head, Doggett was dimly aware of a rush of movement, and a sudden warmth on his hand. 

"Jesus..." Skinner gasped, his breath warming Doggett's face. "Oh man..." 

Slowly opening his eyes, he stared the few inches into Skinner's. The other man was blinking as if stunned, shaking his head from side to side. 

Chuckling, Doggett licked his lips. "I won." 

"I don't know about that," Skinner replied, letting go of the dick in his hand and regarding the mess. "I feel pretty successful, myself." 

"Glad to hear it." 

Giving a snort, Skinner laughed. "I think everyone heard it. You always that noisy?" 

"You'll have to let me know." 

Shutting his mouth with a snap, Doggett cursed himself for saying that. Skinner hadn't reacted, just kept looking at him with those dark eyes that gave nothing away. There was no way of telling what he thought of that remark. 

Vaguely embarrassed, Doggett peeled his fingers from where they were curled and looked at the result of their 'race'. 

Skinner was staring at his own hand, glancing at the bed, obviously wondering if it was just too gross to wipe it on the mattress. Reaching behind to the floor, Doggett snagged up the discarded tee shirt. He handed it over. 

"Here y'go." 

Pulling a face, Skinner took the shirt. "Gee, thanks." 

"Hey... it's wet anyways, and I'm not lying on a damp patch, thank you very much." 

Grunting, Skinner used the shirt to wipe off the evidence, then to Doggett's surprise, took his hand and cleaned him off, too. 

"Thank you," he said, touched. He hadn't expected that. 

"You're welcome." The mattress got a cursory wipe, then the shirt sailed onto the floor. 

Silently, Doggett watched as the dress pants were pulled up and fastened. 

So that was that. It was all over. Fantastic as it had been, he couldn't help wish there was going to be more. 'Be careful what you wish for', was right. He'd had a tiny taste and now he knew for sure he'd never be satisfied with just staring across a Bureau desk at the man lying next to him. He sighed. 

Skinner looked at him. "You okay?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"You don't sound too sure." 

Doggett stared, not sure what Skinner meant by that. If he expected him to go mushy, then he'd have a long wait. He wasn't going to do 'needy'. That wasn't his style. If Skinner wanted anything more, that'd be great, but he wasn't going to beg. He could live with the thought of never doing this again. 

No problem, he lied to himself. 

"I'm just beat," he yawned. That much was true. That orgasm had wrung out the last of his energy, he felt like he could sleep for a week. 

Copying him, Skinner rubbed his face. "Me too. Guess I could sleep now." He grinned. "Thanks." 

Doggett shrugged slightly. "My pleasure." 

He pulled his shorts up with a little difficulty and stretched without straightening the one leg. 

"That feel any better?" Skinner asked, indicating his knee. 

"Nah. But I'll live." 

Shit. That just about summed this whole freakin' situation up, didn't it? 

He fussed with the elastic on his shorts for a while, so that he didn't have to look the other man in the eyes. He was sure how he really felt would be all too easy for Skinner to read, even without his glasses on. 

"Well, okay. But maybe when you feel better, we could..." 

Doggett looked up as he trailed off, his gaze shifting down to the bed. He seemed to struggle for a second before looking back up. 

"I don't know... maybe get a beer, or something." 

The sentence rose up like a question at the end. A question with a healthy dose hopefulness mixed in, Doggett thought, hope of his own rushing through his veins. 

"If you'd like, that is," Skinner finished, clearing his throat. 

A slow grin spread over Doggett's face. He felt it pull his lips away from his teeth in a face-splitting display of pleasure. 

"That'd be great," he said, trying to control the urge to throw his arms around his boss. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." 

"Good." Skinner nodded seriously. "We'd have to be..." He paused. "Well... Discreet, I guess." 

"Naturally." 

"Keep it separate from work." 

"Of course." 

"Might be tough." 

Doggett stared at the dark eyes. "It'd be worth it." 

Skinner stared back, then smiled. "Okay, then." 

"Okay." 

They lay still, just letting their gazes run over each other's face. Doggett had a sudden insight as to what was going on inside that shiny head, and was surprised to realise it was startlingly similar to what was running around inside his. He blinked in surprise. Insecurity, laced with a decent amount of fright, topped off with faint hope. 

Fancy that. 

It was a shame things couldn't be different, that they weren't so crippled by gender and life in general, that they could just open their mouths and say what they both wanted. Admit the stuff that usually only got spoken of between married couples, and sometimes not even then. 

Maybe they'd get to that point some day. If they were both very lucky. 

"Night, then," Skinner said. 

"Yeah." 

"You want to... Tuck in?" 

Doggett could have sworn he was going to say 'cuddle up', but he just smiled and nodded. 

"I'd like that." 

Rolling over, he tucked himself tight into Skinner's groin and chest as the large arm came over to pull him even close. That felt good. Heaving a small sigh, he closed his eyes and let himself relax, relishing the warmth and security of Skinner's embrace. They hadn't even so much as kissed, he thought with a pang of regret. He really hoped Skinner wasn't one of those guys that didn't like kissing. He always thought there were few things hotter than a good old-fashioned make-out session. 

He supposed he'd find out soon enough. 

Behind him, Skinner wriggled then lay still. He spoke in a quiet rumble that told Doggett the other man a just this side of sleep. "Night, John. Sleep tight." 

Doggett smiled. "You too." 

There was just the lightest whisper of a kiss on the nape of his neck. 

Guess that answered his question, Doggett thought as he fitted Skinner's hand snug under his chin and sleep claimed him, that lop-sided smile still on his face. 

fin.   
  

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